


Eulogy

by ekwtsm



Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekwtsm/pseuds/ekwtsm
Summary: A short one-shot inspired by the gorgeous poetry of Javed Ahktar.





	Eulogy

I’ll never forget the day we met. Rudy Olsen had asked for me to come to his office at ten a.m. on a Monday morning. It was just a ‘what if’ meeting to see if I wanted to leave Vice and possibly be re-assigned to Homicide. 

So you can imagine my surprise when I entered the room and found Lieutenant Mike Stone sitting in one of the guest chairs. I’d never met the, ah, vaunted lieutenant before, one on one. We had passed each other in the hallway a number of times but I’m pretty sure he never really saw me. I saw him, that’s for sure. It’s hard to miss someone whose reputation precedes him in such a way as his did. His name had been bandied around since the day I’d joined the academy. 

To be perfectly honest, I never expected him to be just, you know, walking around the Hall like the rest of us plebes. From everything I’d heard, I expected him to be walking on air… 

I remember the first look he gave me. It was very sober and very serious. And I thought, Jesus Christ, this guy is going to be a bastard… I could just feel it. He didn’t smile, not in the slightest, and those disturbingly intense blue eyes seem to burn right through me. For a few seconds, I just wanted to turn around and walk right out of the room. Vice was looking pretty comfortable to me right then.

But Rudy told me to take a seat, and you don’t ignore Rudy Olsen, let me tell you. When he says take a seat, you take a seat. The lieutenant got up and perched on the corner of Rudy’s desk, and his eyes followed me without expression as I sat. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that uncomfortable in my life, before or since. I felt like an ant under some kid’s magnifying glass.

And Mike didn’t say a thing. The entire time I was in Rudy’s office, he never opened his mouth. Rudy did all the talking; he just stared. You know, to this day I don’t remember a single question that was asked of me and I don’t remember a single one of my answers. It’s all one uncomfortable blur. And I have no idea how long I was there either – I heard from Rudy later that it was less than ten minutes, but it seemed like an hour, at least, to me. 

I don’t even remember leaving the room; I must have, obviously, because the next thing I knew, I was walking down the hallway and one of the guys from Vice, Bobby Thomson, grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop and asked me how it went. I have no idea what I told him.

So you can imagine my surprise when I got a call two days later telling me to report to Lieutenant Stone’s office in Homicide, and bring all the crap from my desk with me. That’s exactly what I was told – ‘bring all your crap’.

You know, those first days working Homicide were a frightening blur. I don’t remember anything specifically, except everywhere Mike went, I followed, like an obedient and over-eager puppy. 

But, looking back, I don’t remember him ever being the aggressive ‘master’ – he never rolled up a newspaper and popped me on the nose, if you know what I mean. He seemed to realize I was in over my head and, if nothing else, he was a gentle and patient teacher. 

And as much as I was in awe of who he was and the reputation that engulfed him, which I soon discovered he was very uncomfortable with, he treated me almost as an equal right from the start. Now, I’m not a wide-eyed optimist, as you all well know, but Mike seemed to see something in me that I didn’t – he had more faith in me than I had in myself at that time, it seemed. 

And, looking back, maybe, false modesty aside, he saw something of himself as a young cop in me. I should only be that lucky.

We’d only been partnered up for a few days when he did something so… out of character – or so I thought at the time… that I realized in an instant that this was a man I couldn’t read as easily as I thought I might. 

We were on a stake-out, sitting outside a flophouse in the ‘Loin, waiting for a CI to show himself. It wasn’t a particularly risky assignment, and Mike was going over some files while my task was to keep my eyes on the building in question. We’d been sitting there in silence for almost an hour and he suddenly looked up and took off his glasses. He paused and seemed to stare into nothing.

Then he turned to me. I thought he was going to tell me he’d found something in the files. But no – he held up his glasses and said, “You know, it would be really hard to wear glasses if we didn’t have ears, wouldn’t it? I mean, seriously, where would we hang them? We’d have to go around wearing those – oh, what do you call ‘em – oh yeah, pince-nez glasses, wouldn’t we? Wow, that would be inconvenient.” Then he put his glasses back on and went back to reading the file.

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever bitten my lip so hard to keep from laughing in my life. But I knew, in that instant, that this was a man I could grow very fond of very quickly.

And I was right.

We spent six glorious years together. Looking back, I wish it had been longer, but… things… life, got in the way. A life he saved and gave back to me, to be honest.

And I have to admit, in all the years since, those ones, the ones I spent with Mike, day in and day out, were, in the truest Bruce Springsteen sense, my glory days.

I learned so much from him – about life, about love, about laughter, loyalty and the wisdom of experience. About sharing what you’ve learned with others, but staying open to new experiences and new points of view. He had an unbelievable work ethic, and I’m proud to say I inherited that from him. He was the most loyal friend… and patient ear… and wisest counsel.

He was strong enough to be gentle, wise enough to be child-like, patient enough to be the very best of teachers. He shaped me as a man, as a husband, as a father and as a teacher. He gave the best to me and allowed me to chart my own course, follow my own path, and become the man I hope made him proud.

I was the son he never had, he always said. I only hope I was the son he wanted me to be – because he became the father that every son should have. He was my rock, my mentor, my pillar of strength. He was everything that was good in this world… and I will miss him every second for the rest of my life.

Michael, I loved you more than you could ever know. There is a hole in my heart now that will never heal.

Thank you for your patience, your wisdom, your strength, your example and your love.

I miss you, my friend….

 

Steve Keller swiped at the tears that were streaming down his cheeks as he picked up the small white note cards from the podium and stepped down into the transept where the mahogany coffin stood. 

He stopped, took a deep unsteady breath, and laid a trembling hand against the gleaming wood, unembarrassed by the sobs that tore from his throat, the tears that continued to flow.

He knew his world would never be the same.


End file.
